


Nothing Will Keep Me From You

by VeinsOfOpal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeinsOfOpal/pseuds/VeinsOfOpal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something Fenris once told Hawke... And he truly means it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Will Keep Me From You

The battle of Adamant had been taxing, to say the least. The twelve day ride back to Skyhold was nothing compared to fighting through the Fade. The group had just arrived back to Skyhold, late in the evening, the moon rising slowly into the starry night sky. Varric had convinced Hawke to rest at Skyhold for at least one night before making his way to Weisshaupt. With the late hour, the nobles had cleared to their rooms, and the Inquisitor’s entourage now milled about the main hall. Varric and Atlas stood in the stairwell that led up to Vivienne’s balcony, speaking in the enclosed area. Solas was painting the fresco as Cole watched the process quietly. Iron Bull sat at the large table upon the left side of the hall, the Chargers filling the other seats and cards spread out on the tabletop. Blackwall and Sera too sat at the table, joined in the game with Bull’s men. Cassandra was in the War Room, discussing following moves with the Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana. Dorian and the Inquisitor sat at the table upon the right side of the hall, talking softly to one another. Idalia’s long, golden hair was loose about her, shoulders slumped in a tired stance. 

The hall was quiet but for the soft chattering of those playing cards. It was not often that they did anything quietly, but this was a time for quiet, they all knew. The Inquisition had lost many men at Adamant, a victory hard earned. While Idalia was generally always straight-backed and strong, she was visibly worn, and those that had not been there knew from that alone that Adamant wasn’t quite something to celebrate. The torchlight flickered, casting shadows in their dancing. It was peaceful, one could say. A much needed rest after the storm. That peace, however, did not last long. 

The doors burst open with surprising speed for their size, creaking upon their hinges from the force exerted unto them. Many jumped or shouted in surprise, though Idalia, Dorian, Bull and Blackwall rose into fighting positions, despite being unarmed. The fast footsteps of the advisors and Cassandra could be heard running towards the loud sound that shattered the quiet atmosphere. They entered the hall prepared, while Josephine flitted worriedly behind them, eyes wide. Electricity crackled at Dorian’s fingertips, Bull and Blackwall stood strong and ready, as did Idalia, making her way forward, followed by Dorian. Solas came running, eyes alert and sharp, and Cole silently behind him, surprised and wondering before his eyes narrowed and he spoke softly, in a quick, distressed manner, though it was clear the words were not his own. _“He has to be here, has to be here! What if he’s not, what if he’s-”_

In strode a dark figure, a rather torn black cloak hanging from his shoulders. Beneath that, black cloth and sturdy armor, sharp gauntlets. Around one wrist, a red piece of cloth tied firmly. With his powerful steps, a blue glow accompanied him, long white hair in a ponytail contrasting sharply with dark skin that was alight with blue markings. From that hair poked out two pointed ears. His hands were clenched, and narrowed, angry eyes darted about the men and women in the hall, searching.

“Where is Hawke?!” the elf demanded, voice shaking as he proceeded forward. The large Iron Bull moved to bar his way. His heart beat harder as his gaze desperately darted over the stony expressions, thinking the worst. He made to push past the towering Qunari, who moved where he tried to walk, and he curled his fist, began to lift it as his markings glowed brighter, angrier.

A shout halted all movement.

“Fenris!” The shout came from the back of the hall, and those facing the elf turned as Hawke and Varric came out from the stairway, hurrying forward. Atlas took greater strides than the dwarf could even hope to keep up with, urgency in his step. As Atlas quickly moved toward the elf, Fenris briskly pushed past the Qunari without a second glance, the bright angry glow of his tattoos fading. The anger fell from his expression, too, replaced with one of immense relief, though distress still lingered in his eyes and the downturn of his lips. Coming to a stop in front of the Champion, he reached forward, tightly grabbing Hawke by the shoulders with rather shaky hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Fenris asked of Hawke, voice loud in his distress, unaware, or uncaring, of all the eyes upon them. Hawke rose a hand to grip one of the slender and trembling hands that rested upon his shoulder. “It was for your own safety, Fenris, I couldn’t let-”

“Hawke, please, don’t do that ever again,” Fenris implored, voice straining. Atlas’ heart hitched upon seeing tears rim those emerald pools, seeing the elf bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Varric, having stopped beside Hawke, saw this too. With that, his gaze surfed to everyone watching, each a different expression. Idalia’s blue eyes held sadness, and Dorian’s expression held what seemed to be discomfort, his eyes investigating the markings upon the elf’s dark skin. “Come on, you two need some privacy,” Varric spoke up, and his words made most of the stares fall, except for the more interested eyes of Solas, Dorian, and Cole. Varric found he didn’t care why they were so interested, and just wanted to get his friends the privacy they deserved.

Atlas gave a nod of agreement, turning to follow Varric back to the stairwell. Fenris’ hands fell from his shoulders, tightly grasping one of the Champion’s hands in his, and following him closely. They disappeared from sight as they entered the stairwell. 

The Inquisitor’s entourage slowly began to return to their seats, Idalia and Dorian returning to their table and being joined by Solas and Cole, Solas taking the seat left of the Inquisitor, and Cole to Solas’ left. Lavellan’s weary eyes looked to Dorian as he sat in the chair across from her, seeing his troubled expression. “What is it?” she inquired, lifting a delicate hand to brush the golden locks out of her face. Dorian’s gaze flicked over the three at the table, finding that they, too, listened for the answer. Solas’ gaze held something Dorian didn’t recognize, but he didn’t bother to fiddle with that. Looking back to Idalia, he gave a sigh, lifting a hand and resting his forehead against it, elbow propped upon the tabletop.

“He’s familiar. I think I saw him in Minrathous, once. Another Magister’s slave, Danarius was his name. Talk of his slave was all about Minrathous. I don’t know how he did it, but he imbued lyrium into his skin and used him as a body guard,a display of power. I remember father talking about it. He was invaluable, and I just... Didn’t expect to see him...” Dorian trailed off, his gaze flicking towards Solas as he spoke.

“Free?” the mage finished the sentence, lips pursed with the corners curved downwards. Dorian parted his lips to reply, though fell silent as Cole’s voice softly cut through, eyes trailed up to the balcony as three figures made their way towards the door that led to the rooms above the garden. 

“He is bright, loud, wanting to be heard but wanting to be hidden. He hated mages, hated them more than himself. Wanted to use the weapon they made him into against them, but he never expected a mage like him. Saved him from the hate, showed him love, and he _felt_ it. _“I love you, Hawke,” and I mean it, but he looks surprised. What if he doesn’t love me back? I shouldn’t have said that, I look away, I try to apologize, I was out of line, I- his arms wrap around me, he pulls me closer. “I love you, Fenris. Maker, I love you,” my heart is pounding, and I believe him. He saved me, he loves me. “Stay with me,” he asks. I stay. I don’t have to run anymore. I’m safe. Safe with him.’_

Cole blinked rapidly as they walked through the doorway, out of sight. His eyes fell from the balcony, meeting the stares directed at him. Idalia’s wide, surprised eyes, slender hand hovering to cover her mouth. Dorian’s expression almost pained, almost ashamed, though he had no reason to be, Cole thought. Solas’ was hard, and his eyes fell first, resting upon his steepled hands. “I... Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Cole began to apologize, and Idalia shook her head. “It’s okay, Cole. With Dorian’s explanation and... yours, I think I understand more why Fenris was so...”

“Scared,” Cole filled in for her, his eyes growing distant once again, and Solas placed a hand on his shoulder. His ghostly blue eyes came back in to focus, looking at the three once more. “It’s okay, now. They’ll be okay,” 

\---

The night breeze held a chill as the tree walked towards one of the rooms overlooking the garden. Varric led the two, and Fenris clung to Atlas like a blind man holding a leash, trusting where he was going. Varric got the door open against the wind, holding it for Atlas and Fenris to step inside. It was dark, the silver moonlight providing enough light to enter. A flame flicked from Hawke’s fingertips as he reached towards a white candle that sat upon the desk, the wick coming alight with the fire. Atlas turned to look at Varric, who stood at the door. “Are you coming in?” Hawke asked his friend, and Fenris looked to Varric as he held tightly to Hawke, the guarded light in his eyes having fallen, blinking stubborn tears of relief that kept coming. Varric shook his head with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I’ll probably bother Thorns, she seems a bit down in the dumps,” he responded, and the confused expressions caused him to backtrack. “Oh, the Inquisitor. It’s a nickname, like, Broody, Daisy, Blondie...” the writer replied, his expression falling with those nicknames. Atlas gave a frown and a tilt of his head, though Varric shrugged off the homesickness, shaking his head towards Hawke once more. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll talk with you more before you leave, alright? Just... Don’t leave before I wake up,” Varric told him, raising his brows as his whiskey brown eyes rested on his dear friend.

“Of course, couldn’t imagine keeping my dwarf out of the loop,” Hawke spoke with that familiar chuckle, and Varric gave his lopsided grin, good memories coming to him. He turned to leave, though a voice stopped him once again. “Varric, I... Thank you, for taking us out here, to talk,” Fenris spoke after a moment, meeting the dwarf’s eyes as Atlas and Varric both looked to him. Varric gave a softer smile, accompanied by a nod of his head. “Don’t need to thank me, Broody. That’s what friends are for,” he murmured in reply. With that, he headed away, letting the door close behind him. In the small, dimly lit room, Atlas looked to Fenris, moving to sit on the bed. Fenris followed his movements, sitting beside him, clutching his arm with what seemed no intent to let go. There were papers scattered about the table upon which the candle sat, books piled atop each other on the corner. One bed, a nightstand, and a chair pushed into the table. A small room, but it would do.

“Why did you come looking for me?” Atlas broke the silence between them, gently prying Fenris’ hand from his forearm, only to clasp that hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. Fenris gave a frown at Hawke’s question, meeting his bright blue gaze. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you off alone, in danger. The thought that something might have happened to you, and that I wouldn’t have known if something did. That you could have been...” Fenris trailed off, swallowing hard and his gaze falling. “I’m here, Fenris. You don’t have to worry about that,” Hawke spoke softly as he tried to assure Fenris, his expression quiet as he began undoing Fenris’ gauntlet, pulling it from the elf’s hand so to have a closer touch. After laying the gauntlet off to the side, he ran his thumb over the hand he held once more, the hand that trembled in his. As a choked sob left Fenris, Atlas’ expression broke and he quickly leaned closer to the elf, enveloping him in a tight embrace. “I’m here Fenris, I’m here. I won’t leave you again,” he assured his love in soft tones, the deep timbre of his voice soothing. He lifted a hand, gently stroking Fenris’ long, white hair, pausing a moment to undo the tie that held it together. 

Leaning back, he pulled the tie away, and the elf’s straight and snowy hair fell about his face. Tears shimmered upon his sharp cheekbones and dark skin, emerald eyes glistening in the candlelight from the moisture. Hawke lifted a hand, wiping the tears away with a soft expression. Fenris lifted his bared hand, taking the hand that wiped the tears from his face. Entwining his slender fingers with the human’s thicker ones, he grasped tightly, holding Hawke’s gaze, silent as he swallowed the emotions that had risen to his throat.

Atlas leaned closer, lifting his free hand to gently cup Fenris’ cheek. Fenris leaned into the touch, emerald eyes closing, small tears clinging to his long black lashes. “I love you, Fenris. I won’t leave again, I swear it. We’ll go together,” Hawke promised him, watching as those beautiful eyes opened once more, meeting his. “I love you, Atlas,” he murmured in return, all falling quiet as he leaned forward, capturing the mage’s lips with his. Atlas kissed him back, slowly and tenderly, hand rising from his cheek to stroke his loose snowy hair. Atlas’ heart swelled with love, of being back with him. The familiar scent of Fenris, of old pages and wine and spice. He couldn’t leave this again. They were in this together.

Together.

Parting slowly from the kiss, Hawke opened his blue eyes to meet the loving gaze before him, and a soft smile came to his lips. “I can’t believe you came all this way, looking for me,” the Champion murmured, and Fenris gave a nod, eyes serious. “I said it years ago, and it is still true, now. Nothing will keep me from you, Hawke. Not distance, and not demons,” he spoke resolutely, and Hawke drew in a softly shaking breath against the swelling of his own emotions. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Fenris,” he replied, voice nearly a whisper. Atlas leaned forward, taking one more tender kiss. Oh, how he’d missed the soft skin against his, gentle breaths beside him at night when he lay in bed, a heartbeat to join the melody.

He wouldn’t leave this behind. Not again.

Atlas found himself letting go of Fenris’ hand, his arm now encircling the elf’s waist, pulling him closer to feel the warmth of his chest flush against his. A soft sigh of contentment left Fenris, a hand falling upon Hawke’s chest, curling gently into the fabric of his tunic as his lips slowly danced alongside the Champion’s. After a moment of indulgence, Atlas broke the kiss, his gaze looking to the full moon that shown through the window. “We should get some rest; you must be exhausted,” Hawke made note, looking to Fenris as he gave that familiar crooked smile, the one that Hawke loved so much. “It will be easier to sleep again, with you by my side,” the tattooed elf spoke softly, and Atlas planted another gentle kiss upon his lips. With that, Hawke began to help Fenris remove his armor, setting each piece carefully to the side, laid out for when they prepared to depart in the morning.

With both men in their casual and comfortable attire, Atlas rose, making his way to the candle and blowing it out with a soft breath. The orange light went out, replaced completely by the cool silver of the moon and stars. Hawke smiled to Fenris who watched him from the bed, and he cracked the window open to let in a slight breeze; just the way his love liked it. Hawke turned back, making his way to the bed. Lying down beside Fenris, the faced each other as they settled close by one another. Their legs tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, foreheads pressed gently together, both drinking in the contact as their eyes closed.

Sleep that night was peaceful. 

\---

Idalia and Varric saw the two off with fresh supplies. The elven warrior was atop a noble Imperial Warmblood, human mage upon a steady Amaranthine Charger, they rode off, down the road side by side. 

They rode to Weisshaupt, unknowing of what would come next. It was okay, though. Because this time... 

They would face it together.


End file.
